A Promise to Keep
by Thomas Linquist
Summary: This is the story of an author facing what each of us does, writer's block, and finding inspiration in a memory.


Firstly, I need to acknowledge that I do not own any of the characters in this story. Lynn Johnston is a brilliant cartoonist and story teller. I am posting this without permission from her or her staff. If asked, this will come down, and fast. I respect her.

In case you haven't heard of For Better or For Worse, what planet are you from! Okay, not everybody reads the funny papers. Still, it's worth the read, the strip that is. Judge the story for yourself.

* * *

Michael Patterson sat at his computer, staring out of the window. The view from the sun room was the cheerful back yard of the home he shared with his wife Deanna and their two children, Meredith and Robin. The house was quiet, with both of the kids at school and Dee off to work. What could be better for a writer than a day of peace and quiet in which to work? What could be worse than all of that tranquility and a severe case of writer's block? 

In a corner of the room lay a small golden retriever puppy. Maggie had been a gift from Dee and the kids that Christmas. She was named for the famous Canadian author, Margaret Attwood. The little yellow ball of fur stirred in her sleep, paws going as if running in place. Michael loved watching her in dreams, her whole body just about broadcast what she was seeing behind the closed lids.

Michael looked beyond the yard. On the other side of the chain link fence was the ravine, and at the bottom of that, the Sharon River, for which the street they lived on was named. The house on Sharon Park Drive had belonged to his parents until a couple of years ago. John and Elly had begun to feel the symptoms of empty nest syndrome, and moved to a smaller house down the street. Michael and Deanna had been quick to purchase the split level ranch he had grown up in.

Past the gate in the fence, just out of sight in the woods was a very special tree. I t was the place that all of the Patterson children were inclined to go when they needed to think. Buried at its base were three of the family's much beloved pets. One was an English sheep dog, the others were bunnies. In turn, each had been teased and hugged by young Patterson children. Sometimes, each of John and Elly's kids could swear they heard the sound of a dog collar or the munching of contented rabbits whenever they sat under that tree. No matter what troubles brought them to the leafy memorial, those presences never failed to bring a measure of comfort.

Mike got up from his chair and stretched. With his second novel in the hands of publishers, and all of his freelance work sent off to editing, there really wasn't a reason for him to sit and stare at an empty computer screen. He picked up the mug at his hand and took it to rinse in the kitchen. Maggie's leash lay on the counter. Picking it up, the young man returned to the sun room/office.

"Maggie! Want to go for a short walk?" The last word caused the puppy to leap to all fours in a bound. Golden retrievers are full of energy, and Maggie loved any time spent outdoors with her people. Not quite grown into her paws, she galloped over to her master. "It's a beautiful day out there girl. Maybe a little exercise will clear this blockage. You should get to know the neighborhood anyway." They went out the back door and down the steps, Maggie pulling at the tether in her eagerness. Instinctively, Mike went to the back gate, needing both hands to undo the new security latch at the top.

"I'm taking you someplace new, girl.", he told his little companion. Even at a young age, she seemed to understand a lot of what he was telling her. "This is a big part of the family you've gotten yourself into." Just about every member of the Patterson clan had taken to talking to the family pets as if they were people. Elizabeth (Mike's sister, and second eldest of the three siblings.) had a friend who practiced as a psychologist. Candice said that it was normal behavior to think of animals as small humans, so none of them ever worried about the habit. When his kids went to school and daycare, Mike had immediately used the dog as a surrogate. There was something to be said for a companion who couldn't talk back.

The woods that bordered the ravine was of many species of trees. Most had been planted by the Milborough Conservation Authority. One had been placed there at the request of the Patterson family. It was more than a memorial. It was a living shrine to three spirits that were a piece of family history.

Two small stones marked the graves of Mr. B and Butterscotch. Mr B had been the Patterson's' first rabbit, purchased by Elizabeth on a whim at an auction out west. The little character had insisted on roaming the house, chewing on everything in sight. He had died of old age in April Patterson's young arms. Butterscotch had been given to April by a classmate. She had settled into the family fairly quickly, keeping the dogs, Edgar and Dixie, on their toes. She was a messy little fluff ball, but universally loved. When John, Elly and April had moved, Mike's family had inherited the rabbit. She was used to Meredith and Robin by then, and the new house didn't have the space.

The reason he had come was now in view. Farley's Tree, they called it. It was planted as a memorial to a very special dog. Farley had died in the ravine, saving the life of his friend April. When she was small, April had fallen into the flood-swollen Sharon River. The aged sheep dog had followed his instincts, jumping in to hold her above the water. Edgar had brought help, and April was pulled to shore, terrified, but safe. Farley had used the last of his life, his heart too weak, to save her. He died moments after being pulled from the water himself. The family grieved for a long time. None more than April.

In the years since, all of the Patterson children had come to Farley's tree. When they sat at its roots, they could feel the old dog in their hearts. Problems seemed to solve themselves here. That was the magic of unconditional love. It endured beyond the grave.

Mike and Maggie sat down. As the puppy sniffed at the trees around her, the young man thought back to all of his memories of Farley. Mrs. Baird had helped him and his father "con" Elly into taking him. There was the time that the dog had gotten out and went "dumpster diving", resulting in a severe case of garbage gastritis. Once, Farley had run out for a night on the town and Mike's uncle Phil had brought him home. The car had never smelled the same again.

Then came another memory. He was standing under this very tree with a girl. Rhetta Blum had been his girlfriend until they went away to different schools. He had taken her there to tell her that he was going to London, Ontario to study journalism. In the process, he had told her about Farley and the sacrifice he had made for the family. "Promise me that you will write Farley's story one day, Mike.", she had said. Somehow, after they had broken up, and he had gotten involved with Deanna Sobinski, he forgot that promise.

And there was the solution to the problem, the writing one that had prompted this little stroll. As always, Farley had come through. He stood up and brushed his hands down the legs of his jeans, brushing off the grass and dirt. Before, calling Maggie back to him, he leaned over and patted the bole he had been leaning against. "Thank you, Farley. It's time to keep my promise."

Settling at the computer, Michael began at the beginning, with Mrs. Baird. The words poured from his memory and onto the screen. As the last paragraphs were entered, the tears fell. At last, Farley's story had been told, and he would live forever, even beyond the Patterson family.


End file.
